Each Color Lives By Its Mysterious Life.

In Your Works, You Have Realized What I, Albeit In Uncertain Form, Have So Greatly Longed For In Music. The Independent Progress Through Their Own Destinies, The Independent Life Of The Individual Voices In Your Compositions, Is Exactly What I Am Trying To Find In My Painting.

When I Was Thirteen Or Fourteen I Bought A Paintbox With Oil Paints From Money Slowly Saved Up. The Feeling I Had At The Time - Or Better - The Experience Of Color Coming Slowly Out Of The Tube - Is With Me To This Day.

As A Picture Painted In Yellow Always Radiates Spiritual Warmth, Or As One In Blue Has Apparently A Cooling Effect, So Green Is Only Boring.

An Empty Canvas, Apparently Really Empty, That Says Nothing And Is Without Significance – Almost Dull, In Fact – In Reality, Is Crammed With Thousands Of Undertone Tensions And Full Of Expectancy. Slightly Apprehensive Lest It Should Be Outraged.

Every Work Of Art Is The Child Of Its Time, Often It Is The Mother Of Our Emotions.